


Invisible Strings

by bright73



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Character Study, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-06
Updated: 2007-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright73/pseuds/bright73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warrick finds his comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisible Strings

He hadn't intended ending up here, not now that he felt the simmering rage blind him from rational thought. It was always worse when he'd had to bite down the anger; that's when the pull was strongest. It was almost physical. That need to step into the glittering world of adrenaline rushes and some hope of hitting it big. It was not rational because even if he was a billionaire , he'd still be working. Maybe he'd drive a nicer car and be able to donate more money to still the guilt of having made it out of the hood, when so many others didn't. But he knew it wouldn't change who he was – that had been set a long time ago. To say it was for doing someone else good was a blatant lie; what he was there for was the feeling of power over fate. The rush to win against the odds; to be able to foresee who'd come up top with the card aligned just right. Or figure out that last 2 pointer that would bring the game home. That was the adrenaline-rush that had his muscles swell and sent his blood pumping, making him feel so fucking alive. As a contrast to all the death he witnessed on a daily basis.

So he really was a thrill-seeker, needing to come out on top? What that really the essence of Warrick Brown?

He'd been standing here for an hour. After having driven around for far too long. The neon-lights flickered in an eternal pulse, tantalizing and promising. Promising the sweet hight that lurked inside those always open doors. Doors that never asked him to justify, or explain why. They'd welcome anybody with the urge. And that was what was itching him right now.

The people milling around him had long since warped into a stream of uninteresting entities, merely there as props in the awakening city. At this time of day there would be plenty of free tables, plenty of eager croupiers wanting to take him on in Black Jack. He could almost sense the thrill of beating the odds and laying down the winning cards, taking in the defeat of the counterpart. That thrill of finally getting the right cards and actually sensing the victory even before it was verified. Or if he lost; the pulse rising when he asked to be dealt another hand, and another. The statistics forming in his head, numbers and probabilities flashing across his brain and telling him not to stop yet . The winning hand was right there, waiting for him.

He could do it, only this time. He needed it.

But his hand had automatically flipped the phone open and somehow his finger had found the speed-dial.

But when the man answered before he expected him to, he was suddenly silent.

“Where you at?” The voice had taken on an edge at his silence.

“You in bed?” he asked.

“Where? Don't make it harder, just spill, bro.”

“I don't - ”

“Rick!”

He mumbled the sum of the flashing neon-lights to the phone.

“I'll be there in fifteen. Dont'cha move.”

“In your dreams, Stokes! From your pla -”

“Wanna bet?”

And that what's pissed him off enough to close the phone. It pissed him off because now he knew that Nick never went home at all. Knew the man had read him loud and clear when he brushed the suggestion of getting breakfast, off with a snarl. The anger flared and he hated the fucking man for being able to read him that easily. Hated him for never having gone home but probably drove downtown and parked, just to wait for the call he knew was coming.

Shoving the phone into the holder hanging from the belt loop, he contemplated ditching the man just to spite him. If he turned and left now, he'd disappear in the constant mill of people. Nick would never be able to prove why he'd called, he knew he was able to lie with the best of them if needed.

Except to fucking Nicholas Stokes.

The name formed in an arc of lights still beaconed him, he literally smelled the scent of excitement, laced with a little bit of danger, seeping through the open door, clinging to the people entering and sending his blood sizzling.

Then a hand gripped his arm, just above the elbow and he knew who it was without turning. That hand was always solid and strong.

“Time to split and get some food, Warr.”

The voice was firm, not allowing any debate and Warrick was grateful for the resolve he was able to take from it. But he hated the defeat.

“What? You my guardian?” The snarl fell off his lips, he never intended it to, but it slipped out of him, regardless of the fact that he had no reason at all to lash out.

Nick didn't say a word, he just tugged at Warrick's arm and made him turn and start walking down the street. They walked close, making people step to the side to give them room. And that's the kind of power he secretly liked having. Even over the cards. For a fleeting moment he wanted to break free, tell Nick to shove it and take all the tension out on his bud.

“Burgers ai'ght with you? There's this new joint across from where I parked."

“They got fried onions on the side?” Warrick asked and fell in pace with Nick, whose hand never lost the grip on him.

“And peach milk-shakes, man. Sounds like heaven.” Nick turned and flared off the wrinkled grin in his direction.

That smile was like a Pavlovian cue and Warrick chuckled, feeling all the tension dissipate. His spine softened, his muscles felt fully functional again and the headache that had started forming at his temples lifted off. “Peach milk-shakes? You gotta be kidding me, Stokes.”

“Heaven, man, I tell you. You're such a tight ass when it comes to food. It's not gonna kill you to try something new. Not when I'm buying.”

“Oh, so now you hold all the cards, bro?”

Nick looked at him, all serious and nodded. “Yeah, right now I hold the cards, and for as long as needed. You don't have a say either. We'll eat and then I'll take you home and you're gonna bag some serious z's. We'll pick up your car before shift.”

And the way he said it, nothing but care and acceptance in the voice had Warrick relish in this precise moment. He wanted to feel that hand on other parts of his body, had wanted to for a long time but this time he's not risking anything. Right now he wouldn't trade this friendship for anything in the world. This time he wouldn't be greedy and throw what he has away, just in case there's something more to get. It's not like him not to go after what he wants but not this time. This time he'll wait and if he doesn't get it, he'd settle for this. And it'll be all right. It wasn't often he felt gratefulness, but right now it filled him up and had him smiling softly when he replied: “Ai'ght boss.”

The hand still curled above his elbow squeezed gently and it felt like it held invisible strings to his melting heart.

He was gonna be all right.


End file.
